


Spare Parts (Transformers drabbles)

by White Aster (white_aster)



Category: James Bond (Movies), Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transformers drabbles and bits.  Unrelated to any particular continuity unless noted.  Also will contain possibly abandoned stories that I don't think I'll ever flesh out/continue, but which I think you'll find amusing anyway.  Explicit material will be noted in chapter headings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drabbles #1

_TF/James Bond crossover - Mirage_

Usually stolen cars were a mixed bag. You were never quite sure what you'd get. 

This one, however, was a practically holy and sanctified mix of speed and smooth handling that made it almost feel like it was driving itself.

He only had a few miles to enjoy it, however, before his pursuers caught up with him.

Then things got a bit strange.

"All right, then," the car said. "I was willing to be a good sport and play along, but now they are shooting at me. How annoying."

The seatbelt pulled James back tight against the seat. 

"Sit back and relax," the car said, as James watched the speedometer peg and the scenery KEEP ACCELERATING. "And if they chip my paint, I AM sending your government the bill."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _Optimus Prime - glitched_

Optimus Prime had long ago come to the conclusion that he was irreparably glitched. Every maintenance checkup, he expected Ratchet to look at him suspiciously or confront him about some abnormality. 

Optimus knew it was there. How could it not be? How could it be anything but a glitch, the fact that he still could not hate Megatron, after vorn upon vorn of war, after atrocities that haunted his dreams with their sheer, ruthless brutality and cruelty? How could it be anything but a code conflict that even after all that, even knowing the ocean of energon that stained Megatron's hands, that Optimus still hoped, every time he saw Megatron, that this time would be the one where Megatron would come to his senses? Still hoped that his friend would return. Still saw in him Megatronus, who had roused his mind and spark and was the very BASIS of the passion for a better world that had become Optimus Prime.

But no. Ratchet's machines detected nothing. And Optimus was left with the constant fear that he was going insane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _Ironhide and Mikaela - Bayverse - ew._

"No offense to your species, but your planet," Ironhide said, "is DISGUSTING. Rain. Mud. Small suicidal mammals running onto your highways. DISGUSTING."

"Uh huh," Mikaela said distractedly, wrench clenched in her teeth as she fished around under his shoulder plating and, by the look on her face, failed to reach whatever she was trying to reach. She stood back up with a sigh. "I can't see or feel anything, but that probably just means it's stuck in there too far. Can you give me any more room, or am I gonna have to take the plating off?"

Ironhide grumbled to himself for a few moments before partially transforming and flaring the plating in question. "Organic. Idiotic glitch-for-processor Decepticon had to crashland on an ORGANIC world."

"Uh huh." Mikaela waited until he braced the arm before switching out the wrench for a maglite and stepping partially INTO the joint she was examining. The way she shouted and scrambled out again nearly made him jump.

"What? What is it?" He scanned the environment for threats but found nothing. "Did you harm yourself?"

Mikaela just leaned against his forearm plating, face gone pale. "No. No, I'm fine. I just...when you said...it's head is.... EW. I wasn't expecting it to be LOOKING AT ME when I found it." She swallowed. "Ew."

"As I observed," Ironhide said, sounding vindicated.

"Disgusting. Yeah. Ew."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _Soundwave - Bayverse (early RotF) - observant_

There were times that Soundwave had had doubts. Small, well-concealed doubts. But doubts nonetheless. About their purpose, their vision, their goals, and most of all about his Lord's state of mind, on which all of these things rested.

Lord Megatron had changed. He was no longer the mech that Soundwave had joined on Cybertron. All his years captured and tortured by the fleshling humans had...distracted him. Soundwave had blamed his irrational rage, his single-minded obsessions, on the humans. He surely had dared not correlate them with Megatron's proximity to the Fallen.

Surely. Soundwave was much too intelligent to do that.

After the Fallen's destruction, however, Soundwave had a new (or, perhaps, old) set of behaviors to analyze. Patience returned. Irrationality faded. Multithreaded long-term planning resumed. 

Below him on the Namibian veldt, Lord Megatron laid in the African sun, a dozen tiny hatchlings feeding from his own energon lines. Lord and hatchlings looked content. When they were sated, some of the little ones moved to perch on their Lord and protector's chest, apparently listening intently as Lord Megatron spoke to them. A story, perhaps, by the length and amount of gesturing involved.

Yes, Soundwave thought.

He drew his attention back to his planning, confident that all was once more proceeding as expected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _Shockwave - Bayverse, early DotM - waiting_

Shockwave waited.

All around him, fitted to his frame like a lover or a second skin, his Driller waited with him. Her sensor reports were a slow background murmur of pressure, soil composition, radioactivity, seismic activity, and the constant scan for energon signatures. 

Every now and then, she would become restless, a shiver of intent shuddering through her frame. She desired to move, to seek out the mechs that her master was waiting for. Shockwave would still her by the simple expedient of cutting her motor responses. His will would then fall upon her systems like the firm press of the earth around them, his authority iron-clad.

Not yet. Soon.

Eventually she would submit, releasing the tension and settling under his command.

Cocooned in stone and darkness under the radioactive city, they waited.


	2. Decepticon haremverse (unfinished continuity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron and the Decepticons turn on their reproductive coding and take the Autobots as mates as part of a devious plan to breed more Decepticons under the guise of peace. The reproductive coding, however, has other plans....
> 
> (Bayverse, post-RotF, very AU, very much a cracky excuse for mating instinct/pairbonding/sticky sex. EXPLICIT.)

###Decepticon!haremverse - Overall plot

_Megatron wakes up after RotF and shakes the Fallen out of his head and and Starscream says, "I have good news. Guess who had the locks on their reproductive systems turned off by the Fallen so said Fallen could get him knocked up?"_

_"...and this is good news how?"_

_"I'm sorry, I will be more EXPLICIT. Guess who got a good look at the Primal genetic access keys the Fallen used and now KNOWS where all the locks on the reproductive systems ARE and how to turn them OFF, thus allowing all of us to breed our own damn sparklings again? I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count. Why yes, I am so awesome I amaze even myself."_

_Of course the Decepticon officers think that this is awesome idea, and turn their systems on. Their system codechecks indicate that actually, since they all have variants of the same Decepticon codeblocks after being in the same army and fixed by the same coders for so long, that they would do better to have folks considerably different spark them up. Megatron has the brilliant idea that if the AUTOBOTS sparked them up (under the guise of "hey, look, we can haz peace and rekindle our race!", then THEY would get new Decepticons that the Autobots would be at a disadvantage fighting._

_Surely nothing can go wrong with this plan, right?_

_What Megatron did not know was that the reproductive coding affects the carrying mechs as well, enhancing sexual attraction to and forming emotional attachments with their chosen mates to facilitate the sparklings having a stable family unit. Whups?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

###Megatron wakes

Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, warlord of Cybertron, woke after the death of the Fallen with the biggest processor ache in the history of the universe and his second in command's voice ringing in his audials.

The next warship he had commissioned, Megatron promised himself, he was going to have his quarters SOUNDPROOFED, all the way up to Starscream's register.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

###Megatron chooses his mates

"No," Prime said, tone heavy with finality. "Absolutely not."

Megatron smiled. As if he'd not expected THAT response. "It only makes sense, Prime. The more sires, the greater number of donors and caretakers to the sparklings. Or do you think you will be able to handle me and mine all on your own?"

"Not Bumblebee. Choose someone else."

Megatron's optics narrowed. Something in the glyphs Prime had chosen was...telling. He looked over at the scout in question, who was watching both of them with uncertainty. Not particularly FEAR. Merely the uncertainty of a soldier unsure of his orders. Or his chain of command. 

Megatron turned back to Prime. "Why? Saving him for yourself?"

Oh, THAT got a response. Prime's engine revved, his hands clenched, and his tone became ominous...and something else. "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. He is too YOUNG, Megatron."

The Decepticon leader laughed at the pathetic excuse as he paced over to the scout in question. "We are none of us THAT young, Prime. He is old enough to fight and kill." As he moved he trailed a careful claw over a doorwing and around a shoulder. Pausing in front of the scout, he smiled, digit dragging up Bumblebee's throat. THAT got a blink and a very, very level look from wide, Autobot-blue eyes. "He has fought ME and lived to tell of it." Megatron let a pulse of approval slide into his words, and the scout's frame relaxed, slowly.

"I will not allow you to drag him into this. It is me you want."

"Yes, yes, and you've been so excellent at guessing what it is I WANT, haven't you? I know it's hard to believe, Prime, but not everything is about YOU." Now that he was touching the scout, Megatron found himself reluctant to stop. The warmth and vibrations of the small frame rippled through his plating, and protocols unused to such proximity found it incredibly...arousing. Especially when Bumblebee relaxed further, his plating loosing just enough to brush against Megatron's fingers, questing and uncertain but certainly game.

Prime, of course, had to distract him. "Let him go, Megatron."

"I'm not RESTRAINING him, you glitching, self-righteous idiot," Megatron growled. Though, he decided, he certainly would like to. In several positions.

He'd chosen the small scout because he needed a second and knew it would rile Prime to his usual protective furor. Evidently, his choice was even better than he thought. Prime's response was as he'd expected, with an extra dose of discomfort and guilt that promised great entertainment. And the scout's response to HIM was much less fearful than he'd expected. The useless little guard had transformed himself nicely.

Megatron sent another, firmer glyph of approval and turned a hand up in offer.

Bumblebee's optics held his, and Megatron was doubly pleased when he didn't look to Prime before reaching up to lay a hand in Megatron's, his response formal. ::I accept.::

That stopped Prime's argument in an undignified squeal of static. Megatron smiled, pleased at the amusement and excitement that flitted across his small mate's optics. 

Yes, Megatron thought. This was going to be MUCH more entertaining than he'd expected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

###Ravage picks Arcee and Jolt

Arcee held a tight three-point formation as this little meet-and-greet went on. Her eyes flicked from Decepticon to Decepticon, relaxing somewhat as no one made a move toward her. Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave had all made it abundantly clear who their choices were, and Arcee and Jolt shared a slightly relieved look between them. Not that she wasn't up to trying to re-spark their race, but still...Decepticons.

Then Jolt's optics widened, and Arcee turned her own back to the middle of the hangar. She froze, all of her, as Soundwave's quadruped symbiote Ravage stalked across the open space towards them. He paused in front of them, pacing back and forth a bit without advancing, his tail powered down but twitching restlessly from side to side. 

"...what?" Arcee said, warily. Was the symbiote looking for a fight, now that his master was, apparently, concentrating all his considerable processor power on charming Jazz?

Ravage vented a snort, pacing forward again. ::So rude,:: he replied over the short-range comms. ::Or are you rescinding your leader's offer?::

Arcee reset her optics. She'd never heard or even heard OF Ravage speaking. "No. What, does Soundwave want me and can't be bothered to come over himself?"

::No. He is certain he needs to concentrate on your clever spec ops second-in-command. He predicts that keeping Jazz entertained will take quite enough...energy.:: Ravage's circuit took him around Jolt, who turned as he circled to keep him in view.

"Then what?" Jolt asked, then stiffened as Ravage stalked closer, curling in a tight weave in and out of Jolt's feet. The felinid didn't scrape, just moved right into Jolt's personal EM field, his tail tapping lightly against each of Jolt's shinplates. "Wait...YOU?"

Arcee reset her optics AGAIN as Ravage moved over to her, grace and lethal power hidden in his saunter. He weaved in and out of her bodies, and his EM field made her processor stutter as it brushed against her own: amusement and curiosity and the clinging, breeding want that she hadn't felt in eons. "WHAT?" 

::I choose you. Both of you. You are friends, yes?::

"What, Jolt and me? Yes...."

::Good. You will get along well, then.::

Jolt was backing up a bit. "Wait, wait, wait--"

::I repeat, are you rescinding Optimus Prime's offer?:: Ravage sat down on his haunches, regarding Jolt calmly.

"I am ALL for doing my duty, but you're a symbiote and a quadruped and are we even...compatible?"

Ravage twitched his tail in what looked like irritation. ::Perfectly. Let me guess: it is this form you find distasteful?::

"Er." Jolt looked uneasily over at Arcee, who couldn't really help him. Sure, Cybertronians came in all shapes and sizes, and Ravage seemed more eloquent than she'd expect from a quadruped, but a bipedal MATING with a quadruped frame was unheard of and vaguely unsettling.

The sound of transformation broke into the awkwardness, and Arcee looked back to see Ravage changing, his front legs pushing up and his chest reforming. The sequence was not the fastest, as if he was out of practice, but involved many minute rearrangements. Most of the redistribution was to change his center of gravity, to lengthen his limbs, to reconstruct his joints to allow bipedal movement. His spinal struts resettled, and his head came up, his face reforming to narrow his jaw and smooth his features, his optics combining into a flattened line not unlike Jazz's visor. When he was finished, he stood before them, of a size to look Arcee in the optic. His tail, unchanged, slithered across the concrete, curling around two delicate, clawed feet.

::Better?:: he asked, archly.

Jolt's only response was an inarticulate, "...uh" and a flash of desire through his field. Arcee couldn't blame him. She knew from experience that Jolt liked the small, graceful, able-to-claw-your-face-off type. 

She smiled. So did she. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

###Ratchet/Ironhide/Starscream plot

Ironhide growled in pleasure as Starscream stiffened and cried out in overload, valve tightening yet again with an exquisite, needy clench that Ironhide was beginning to think would NEVER GET OLD. Ironhide oofed slightly as the seeker slumped forward and was still. He caught the Decepticon by the shoulder and pulled to hold him up, content to just kneel there for the time being. "Is he out?"

"Yes. FINALLY," Ratchet huffed from Starscream's other side, carefully extricating his fingers from Starscream's evidently EXTREMELY sensitive wiring. "Honestly, fragging seekers and their flight-grade power plants...."

"Have to admit," Ironhide said, retracting his spike and carefully laying the seeker down, "that was pretty damn awesome." He grinned as Ratchet moved closer to lean over Starscream's offlined form. "Do I want to know where you learned just how to tweak a seeker's wires?"

"Twenty vorns as chief medic with the 92nd Flight Division, half of it under this slagger," Ratchet replied. "Everything they say about seekers?"

"Yeah?"

"Completely true." Ratchet smirked and shook a hardline out from his wrist, finding one of Starscream's medical ports and plugging in. Ironhide felt the Decepticon slump even further as Ratchet disabled something more definitively than an overload. "All right, then," Ratchet said, voice dark with amusement in a way that made Ironhide want to go another round or three. "Let's see how badly we can frag up your plans, shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starscream woke to mild confusion, a strutless and sated warmth throughout his frame, and a very insistent ping on his comms. He groaned at the designation but gathered at least half of his processing power before answering. ::Yes, Lord Megatron?::

::Starscream, refresh my memory as to how this plan was supposed to work,:: Megatron replied, sounding entirely too annoyed for a mech who had dragged off both Prime and that spunky little scout.

Starscream pushed himself to his feet, looking about but not finding his own mates anywhere. Ah, no matter. He'd catch them later. He did so love a good chase. ::My lord?::

::Because I was under the impression that the THRUST of our plan was that we would be the ONLY ones with active reproductive protocols, thus making us the key to our race's survival and giving us a bargaining chip the Autobots could not replace. Am I...MISTAKEN?::

Starscream rocked up on his feet, tension wires and hydraulics stretching, his plating stinging from bites and compression in delicious ways. ::Of course not, Lord Megatron.:: _What ARE you going on about, you idiot?_

::REALLY. Then I am CONFUSED as to why your medic just sent out a patch that would turn on ANY mech's reproductive codes ON THE OPEN AUTOBOT COMM CHANNEL.:: Megatron's glyphs became more thunderously angry as the sentence went on.

Starscream froze in the middle of unkinking a bit of wiring in his shoulder. And checked one of the pings that had been blinking on the edge of his awareness, noting a medical intervention and code check, several memory retrievals....

Unheard by Megatron, Starscream laughed out loud. Well. That hadn't taken long at all. He would have to reward his wonderfully devious mates. Obviously, he'd chosen well. 

He went on, smiling the entire time, about how the medic had hacked him, my lord. This was entirely unexpected, my lord. Such an unforeseen bit of immorality was out of character for the Autobots and couldn't have been anticipated, my lord.... 

_Unless you know Ratchet,_ he didn't add, smugly, as Megatron continued berating him. Starscream cared even less than usual.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He found his mates, unsurprisingly, in the medbay. Both looked up at him, wary, but Starscream waved a lazy hand at them and said to Ratchet, "If Megatron asks, I'm beating you into submission."

Ironhide snorted. "I'd like to see you try."

Ratchet just smirked and went back to repairing the...whatever it was he had in a thousand pieces on his workbench. Starscream stepped up behind him, arms winding around Ratchet's waist, well below the all-important arms. Ratchet stiffened, but relaxed when Starscream just chuckled and sent, so low-power it wouldn't reach more than ten feet, ::Devious mate,:: his tone and glyphs affectionate, wholly approving, and hinting that there were debts of some kind to be paid. ::You would have made an excellent Decepticon.::

Ratchet hmphed but his glyphs were smug. ::I would have killed you and that idiot leader of yours vorns ago.::

Starscream's reply was a purr. Oh, that would have been a fun power struggle.... His engines revved at the very thought. ::As I said: EXCELLENT Decepticon. You would have been a much more interesting third-in-command than Soundwave. Slagger has no ambition.::

::Some of us like the idea of SURVIVING the war.:: "Get off," Ratchet said aloud, nudging Starscream in the chest with his elbow. Starscream trailed one hand along a particularly sensitive join of chest plates as he pulled away.

"So. Have fun poking about in the memories surrounding that bit of information?" Starscream asked tartly.

Ratchet shuddered. "Primus...."

"Serves you right," Starscream said. "Honestly, HACKING. The Iacon Medical Board would be APPALLED."

"I'll take whatever punishment they deem fit." Ratchet said mildly, then paused, mock-startled. "Oh wait, they don't exist anymore. How convenient...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

###Meg/OP/Bee Mates and bonding  
Megatron purred, keeping Bumblebee's back pressed against his front. The scout moaned, low and shuddering, his valve clenching convulsively around Megatron's fingers at the change in pressure. Megatron hissed, desire curling through his entire system, settling hard at the base of his spike. He WANTED to push Bumblebee forward, to sink himself deep into that hungry valve, but the wide, shocked HEAT in Optimus' eyes at seeing the scout so displayed gave the Decepticon a better idea. 

He pushed forward with his hips, his spike grating in almost-painful pleasure along Bumblebee's joints. The pressure forced the scout's pelvis forward, tilted to best display his dripping valve and the fingers buried in it. He could feel the shiver that ran through his scout's frame at the wanton position, but the sound he made, washed with static, was only nominal protest. "Look at him," Megatron rumbled in Bumblebee's audial. "Watch how he looks at you."

Bumblebee's optics flickered back to full power, and Megatron smiled. "He wants you. He wants THIS." He twisted his fingers in his scout's tight valve, the digits slipping with obscene ease further in, slicked with lubricant. Bumblebee cried out in pleasure that made Megatron growl and Optimus' optics flare in lust.

Megatron shifted his hips, his spike settling between Bumblebee's legs, sliding slick along lubricant-smeared plating. He rumbled in pleasure as his spike skirted the edge of Bumblebee's valve, bumping against his own fingers. He worked his little scout until he was shuddering, begging wordlessly, and the great Optimus Prime watched in shocked silence, optics locked on Megatron's slick fingers as they sank in, twisted, pulled out, plunged in again. The Autobot leader's hands were clenched at his sides, his expression conflicted even as his spike stood tall and hard.

Megatron reined in his own desire, wanting to draw this out, to drive Optimus' lust higher. "How long have you wanted him, Optimus, hmm? You probably never so much as touched him before I came here, did you?"

Optimus' reply was fragmented with emotion, his glyph choice conflicted, shadowed with alternates, indicating uncertainty. "It would...have been...inappropriate.... He is my subordinate."

"And now you both are my chosen. All the more reason for you to take care of him. He wants you. He shakes down to his struts with want of you. Look at his face, Optimus."

Optimus' reply was nothing but static for a long second.

Megatron pulled out his fingers, until the tips just stroked the valve entrance. Bumblebee cried out at the loss as if he'd been shot in the spark, ventilations laboring to cool his overheated systems, fingers scrabbling at Megatron's wrist, trying to force him back where he was before. "Come, Optimus," Megatron said, his optics half-shuttered. The heat from the scout's plating was delicious, the scent of lubricant and transfluid heavy in the air. "Come and claim him. Tell him, scout. Tell him how much you want him."

Bumblebee's comm was wordless as his voice, the sending thick with indicators of need, desire, shame, respect, hope, love, and loyalty. It was artless, raw and pleading, and not just aimed at Optimus. It hit like a punch to the spark. 

Perhaps before the installation of the reproductive code, Megatron would have been unmoved by that tone. There were perfectly Decepticon responses to such a sending: satisfaction at the power it indicated he held; pride in his dominance; and gloating at reducing a proud warrior to a wanton, begging thing in his claws. But those were not the only things Megatron felt. A cry like that, from one he had chosen, from one he had CLAIMED, was a cry to be heeded. A need to be slaked. 

Megatron clutched Bumblebee closer, starting a countdown in his processor wherein if the Autobot leader didn't frag this needy little creature, Megatron WOULD. Again. He had no doubt that spiking the scout would feel just as good as being spiked by him had.

Optimus jerked forward but in the end his frame groaned in stress as he held himself back. "Bumblebee...you don't...you don't have to...not like this...." His uncertain tone was at odds with the desires obviously running rampant through his frame. Honestly, Megatron thought, Prime had had an easier time fragging his worst enemy than he was his trusted lieutenant.

"Optimus," Megatron chided, smiling. "How deliciously cruel. I didn't know you had it in you." His claws circled Bumblebee's valve, methodically triggering every external sensor, and the scout convulsed in his arms, his cry more static than anything, high and desperate in something like pain, and how could Optimus STAND it? "You will force me to satisfy him. Is that really what you want? Me spiking him, when what he wants right now is YOU, filling him, taking him, making him scream...?"

Megatron twitched restlessly, the reproductive programming telling him that aside from this being one of the hottest things he'd ever seen, the very situation he described was WRONG. They were three. A triad, a WHOLE, and Optimus was not holding up his end of the triangle if he would deny one of them. EITHER of them. It left the triad weak, the construct incomplete, and Megatron would not allow THAT. He shifted Bumblebee in his arms, his own plating heating from the inferno Bumblebee was dumping into the air. Deep in his processor, the reproductive code gave another heave, ending with an odd settling sensation that Megatron refused to think too closely on. With a gentleness that Megatron ALSO refused to think too closely on, he stroked his free hand along his scout's flank. "He is yours as he is mine, Prime. He wants you and you want him. Is this how you treat one of your mates? He begs you and you deny him?" And mean it, Megatron didn't add. Having a mate beg and denying him with every intention of satisfying him later was a different game entirely, and one that Megatron filed away for another time.

Optimus' optics went wide with shock. "Mates? But he and I...we are just...we are merely here for YOU."

Megatron growled in growing indignation that any mate of his (and these two were his mates, whether they knew it or not) would be "merely" anything. Not to mention that any mate of his would be so AFT-HEADED. "YES. And what is it that you think I want, Prime? A mere tumble in the berth? A sparkling or twenty to carry with no--" He stopped, that damned programming shifting yet again, whispering that the word he wanted was "bond". A week ago he would have laughed at the very idea. It was an exemplification of the foolishness of forming close social ties. Mechs bound by any sort of exclusive bond were all each others' biggest weakness. 

And, the programming showed him, each others' strength. Loyalty. Steadfast protection. Strong walls to shelter and nurture his sparklings. Steady presences at his side, allies to support his rule.

Exactly what he had always wanted.

Megatron blinked. Well. That was certainly a different take on it.

Bumblebee tilted his head up to look at him, demonstrating that he was smarter than his slag-for-processor leader when he sent the glyph for _mate?_ , with all the proper mutual-bond-support-stability connotations and a surprised-hopeful-did-I-hear-that-right? query marking.

"...Megatron?" Optimus tore his eyes away from Bumblebee to look at Megatron curiously. 

Megatron ignored him, sending the same glyph back to Bumblebee, bracketed with those for self-evident certainty, confidence, and personal command authority, just in case the scout thought to argue with him.

By the shudder that ran through the little Autobot's frame, Megatron guessed that he didn't. Good. That was one down, at least. 

One very stubborn one to go. 

Megatron's optics narrowed in irritation, his countdown long since having expired. He mock-sighed, his fingers circling the scout's entrance again. Bumblebee trembled, arching at the touch, a needy, static whine escaping him.

Optimus's frame visibly SHOOK, his spike gleaming with lubricants. Megatron had never seen a mech who so wanted another and yet still resisted. It was pathetic, but also incredibly arousing. 

Bumblebee summoned the coordination to raise a hand, reaching out to Optimus in offer, in supplication. _mate?_

With a supremely satisfying growl, Optimus SNAPPED, lunging forward to pull Bumblebee into his lap, and Megatron sighed at the scout's triumphant keen of pleasure as the Autobot leader thrust home. 

"FINALLY," Megatron grumbled, settling back to watch the show.

Somewhere in his processor, his reproductive coding agreed. With connections made and confirmed, it silently installed new circuit pathways and faded into the background.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	3. Final Fantasy 7/Transformers - Decepticons ally with the Planet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Decepticons bargain with Shinra, and Aeris offers a better deal. (Transformers/FF7 crossover drabbles)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transformers/FF7 crossover drabbles, requested by vincentursus and Moogle.

"--meeting with Megatron at three o'clock, and then you have six o'clock dinner reservations at La Rue with Mr. Tuesti to discuss the possibilities for cybertronium enhancement of mechanized divisions--"

Rufus made a pained face. "Has he submitted a report on this?"

"Yes, sir, it's in your folder."

Rufus paged through until he found it. It contained entirely too many equations and schematics for his taste. He let the folder fall shut.

"At eight o'clock, sir, you have a thoroughly off-the-books meeting with Soundwave in Conference Room 2, to last, so he's estimated, twenty-five minutes."

"Well, at least he'll be concise."

"That is his greatest strength, sir." 

"Hn." Rufus drummed his fingers on top of his daily folder. It contained nearly as many meetings with alien robots as it did humans. "What do you think of the Decepticons, Tseng? Of this alliance?"

Tseng looked at him steadily. "Megatron is a warlord. Intelligent. Powerful. He views politics as a battle. There is a winner and a loser, and he is determined to be the winner. Starscream's arrogance and...volume...hides a shrewd mind, and his obvious ambition could be useful to us. Soundwave is utterly loyal to his master, thorough, meticulous, and we've foiled at least three covert plans to plant some of his pets in the building infrastructure. All of Decepticon Command are highly dangerous and not to be trusted. Especially since the terms of our alliance are...suspiciously generous to us."

Rufus cocked an eyebrow at him. "And are we any closer to determining what their agenda is?"

"I am still getting my agents in place, sir, but Reno is making quite a bit of headway with Skywarp. Evidently they are now drinking buddies."

Rufus stared at him. "Reno. Drinking. With a teleporting alien robot that can turn into a _jet_."

Tseng looked uncomfortable. "It's a high-risk, high-reward opportunity, sir."

Rufus sighed and stood, pulling his coat over his shoulders. "I suppose I've funded other things of limitless destructive potential...."

-o - o- o- o -o -o - o- o -o -o -o - o- o -o -o 

"Well," Tifa said, peering out the windshield. "Looks like this'll be easy. That one guard hasn't looked up from his TV in an hour, and I think the other one's drunk."

"I hate the necessity of stealing," Optimus replied. 

"Desperate times and all that," Tifa said, patting Optimus' steering wheel. "Besides. From what we saw out near Lowridge, this is mostly energy the 'Cons stole straight from the planet. So, as one of this planet's inhabitants, I say you can have it."

"I appreciate that, Ms. Lockhart."

Tifa pulled on her gloves, leather creaking in the close confines of Optimus' cab. "A'right. Let's do this."

"Indeed. Autobots, roll out!"

-o - o- o- o -o -o - o- o -o -o -o - o- o -o -o 

"Wow. This place's a dump," Frenzy said, kicking a bit of what might once have been a statue.

"Quiet!" Rumble hissed automatically, his attention on his sensors. "These energy readings are weird."

"So what? This whole fragging PLANET is weird. With its green goo center and its squishies all over the place--"

"Will you be quiet? There's enough unrefined energy here to power the whole block. Someone's gotta--"

Someone giggled, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and broken pews.

Rumble and Frenzy froze. "Scrap."

Again the giggle, and this time they got a lock on it, whirling to see a human in a pink dress at the far end of the room. Toward the broken ceiling and the green glow and all those massive energy readings, Rumble noticed. 

"You're not very good at sneaking," she said, smiling. "It's ok. I won't tell."

"T...tell...you...hey!"

She giggled again, stepping closer, and suddenly there were pistols in both Frenzy's and Rumble's hands. She stopped. "It's all right. You don't have to be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"O...of course you won't," Frenzy huffed. "Because you're just a squishie, and we're...not, so you couldn't even if you wanted!"

"...right," the human said, her smile much too amused. Then she tilted her head and looked up, smile widening. "And YOU are very GOOD at sneaking."

Ravage blinked red optics at her from the rafters.

The human looked down at Rumble and Frenzy again. "My name is Aeris. I'd like to speak with your leader. I have...a proposition for him."

Rumble and Frenzy looked at each other, looked at Ravage, then shrugged.

::Uh...Boss? We got...a situation here?::

\------

"It's simple," Aeris said to the holoavatars of the Decepticon High Command. "You want energy. Gaia can provide that. Does provide that, in fact, in amounts that could fuel you for eons, or for however long you want to stay on this planet."

"We already have an alliance with your people," Megatron pointed out, the arms of his holoavatar crossed over his chest.

"Nnnooo, you have an alliance with Shinra," Aeris corrected him. "And as you can probably tell, Shinra's methods are...greedy. Unsustainable. Their methods do not allow the Lifestream to heal, to regenerate. They poison the very well they draw from." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I am hoping that you are a bit smarter than that."

"And who are you to bargain with us?" Starscream asked, suspicious as always.

"I am...a representative of the Planet." Aeris smiled, her eyes glowing green in the dim light. "And I'm offering you a chance to cut out the middleman. Why deal with Shinra...when instead you can deal with Gaia herself?"

-o - o- o- o -o -o - o- o -o -o -o - o- o -o -o 

[somewhere outside of Midgar, I dunno, the Decepticons find her a nice farmhouse out of the way?]

"A little to the left! More...more...there! Oooh, yes, just like that, Hook, excellent!"

"Mmm...should I be jealous?" Zack asked, wrapping his arms around Aeris from behind.

"Wha...oh, you silly." Aeris tilted her head back to be kissed, ignoring the gagging noises coming from Rumble and Frenzy. She stuck her tongue out at them, laughing. "Now, be good or you'll have to go back on duty without--FREEZE!"

Zack froze. So did every Constructicon within a mile.

Aeris stomped through the mud over to where a frozen Constructicon had his shovel deep in the ground. "Scavenger! Don't dig so deeply! Gently, gently, this is going to be a garden, not a swimming pool!"

"...but Ms. Aeris, I'm a POWER SHOVEL. I don't do gentle!"

"If you dig too deeply, you'll disturb the trees' roots. You'll just have to try harder. I'm sure you can do it! Just...scrape the earth. Gently!"

Zack sighed and went back to his chair to "supervise". Aeris obviously had everything (and everyone) well in hand.


	4. TF Prime - Soundwave/Starscream - rivalry - WARNING, consent issues.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream often said things that he didn't mean. Soundwave always filled in the blanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for consent issues in this fic. Very blurred line between unspoken consent and non-con here.

"You think I don't see what you're doing? Currying his favor, always there with whatever he wants, "

"If I wanted to betray you, Starscream, you would be ASH under Megatron's cannon, and you know it."

Starscream bared his denta, like some organic animal. "Let. Me. Go. SUBcommander."

Starscream often said things that he didn't mean. This was one of them. Soundwave could feel it in his thoughts, one line of glyphs diverging into two meanings: the spoken, and the unspoken. 

Soundwave wrapped him tighter, relishing the feel of hot plating beneath his tentacles. His interface equipment hummed to life at the thought of where this was going.

"No." He cut off further protest by the simple expedient of shoving a tentacle in the seeker's protesting mouth. Starscream bit down, of course, but only hard enough to make a point, not hard enough to truly mean it. 

Soundwave soaked in the pain and lifted Starscream right off his feet. It was no mean feat. Soundwave's tentacles were meant for hacking and dexterity, not strength. Were Starscream not a light-plated seeker, Soundwave wouldn't have been able to lift him at all. As it was, Soundwave could only achieve his desire by bringing all his tentacles into play: wound around the narrow waist, the arms with their deadly claws, the tapered length of his legs. Several tentacles wound high on his thigh, incidentally rubbing against his rapidly-heating interface panel. 

Starscream struggled, of course. But not hard enough to truly mean it.

Soundwave considered his options. The berth was always a possibility, of course, but no, not this time. This time Starscream would respond to a show of strength. 

He moved, pressing Starscream back against the wall.


	5. Bayverse, Warrior Goddess-verse, Shattered Glass!AU - bot!Mikaela falls down the rabbit hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikaela is not sure what's going on, but she assumes she's on some really good drugs. (Bayverse, Warrior Goddess-verse, Shattered Glass!AU - bot!Mikaela falls down the rabbit hole)

Mikaela onlined with her processor screaming errors and a steady stream of medical overrides keeping her still as something probably unpleasant was being done to the back of her helm. She fought to get words out. "What the...Ratchet?"

"Ah...no. Not even close," said an unfamiliar voice behind her. "Stay still, not that you have much choice. Your helm took on the bulkhead of your ship in the crash, and the bulkhead won."

Crash? Oh, wait, yes, she remembered that. Some weird anomaly popping up over Cybertron as she'd been making her return approach. Ship spinning out of control and then...yeah, not much. 

Idly, as she poked at her memories a bit more, she checked the designation on the medical overrides and would have jumped if she'd been able. Hook wasn't the worst of the ex-Decepticons, but she kind of really didn't want him fussing about in her head.

Hook must have felt the check, as he replied, "Your memory is probably a bit scrambled. The way your quantum signature's fluxed, you might have hit a dimensional portal. It wouldn't be the first time. I'm sure Megatron will be interested in hearing about where you come from."

Wait what MEGATRON? Oh God, that did not sound good. 

"Don't worry," Hook continued. "Kaon's a safe zone for all. You're just lucky you came down here and not near Iacon. The Autobots would have stripped you for info and Primus help you if you seemed the least bit suspicious. I've seen what they do to anyone they think is a spy, and it's enough to turn a mech's tanks. Not that I'm pushing the Decepticons on you, but at least Megatron's not out of his fraggin' mind."

...what? "...what?" 

Before Hook could answer, something leapt up on the berth in front of her: a white, catlike quadruped that Mikaela's processor insisted looked familiar.

::OH HAI THAR! HOW R U?? U LOOK BETTER NAO!11:: Then it sent her a very enthusiastic smiley emoticon in place of a glyph: :DDD

It was the shape, she thought. Just the shape that looked so much like--

The mech sat down on the berth, tail curling around its paws as it...it GRINNED at her. ::SOUNDWAVE SED U MITE B AN AUTOBOT, BUT U DON'T LOOK MEAN 2 ME. I'M RAVAGE!!1 WHAT'S UR NAME??::

_Wow_ , Mikaela thought. _I...didn't know that the Decepticons wasted the good drugs on prisoners._


	6. IDW - Terrorcons/Sixshot - Good idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hun-Grr doesn't have an idea. It's not a fragging fabulously hot idea, at all.

Hun-Grr weaved a bit in his seat, the last of his sixth cube clutched in his hand. "So I'm not sayin' that we should. Or will. Or...whatever...yeah, but what I'm sayin'...what I'm _sayin'_ is that if we _did_. Were goin' to...it'd take all of us."

"Whaddaya mean?" Sinnertwin's optics struggled valiantly to focus through the haze of overcharge.

"Well, think 'bout it. 'E's huge. Systems're...yeah...mmmm... _huge_."

"Yeah...." Blot said, dreamily, from the floor.

"Yeah.... ...What? Oh. Anyway. His systems're...like...powerful 'n stuff. He's on a whole 'nother _scale_. So if'n we're gonna cable up with him, one of US? We'd be like a...like a neutronium gnat to him. Tiny. One of us'd blow ourselves out tryin' to get him off. _But_...but. _All_ of us? All cabled in? Workin' in, y'know... _sync_? We could pump up the juice, if y'know what I mean. Might be enough."

Sinnertwin's helm clunked down on the table. "...Frag, that's hot."

" _Not that I'm sayin'_ ," Hun-Grr assured them, gesturing expansively. "But I'm just sayin'...."

"Hooooooot...." Blot agreed.


	7. IDW - sacred song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old songs were not just voices, not just words. (Inspired by a Tumblr post about Cyclonus' singing in IDW.)

The old songs were not just voices, not just words. The everyday hymns sung by the laity might have been that, yes, but the true high rituals, sung by the most talented priests—mecha created for a range and beauty of voice that were worship incarnate—were something else entirely. 

The singers stood in alcoves within special echo chambers formed by Cybertron’s own living metal to amplify their voices, to craft something divine from their frail notes. If enough priests were available, if a listener stood in the right place where the music was funneled and melded from a thousand voices…it was a revelation. A miracle of sound, originating in mortal vocalizers, flexed and bent and forged by Primus’ own body until it sounded like the entire world was nothing but the Creator’s song.


	8. Parhelion (Bayverse, Wheeljack and Perceptor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Christmas sunrise" from the TF_Rare_Pairing comm on Livejournal
> 
> (I'm envisioning this being from Bayverse, at some indeterminate time, when these two have paused their search for the Allspark and set down on an unoccupied world to replenish their energon stores. For those not familiar with the scientific terms, Wheeljack is talking about [a parhelic circle](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parhelic_circle) ([pic here](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/03/9f/59/039f59461e6d0bcc371fbca8196fdaf0.jpg)), rather like a [sundog](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sun_dogs).)

::Hey. Perceptor. You should come take a look at this.::

Perceptor zoomed his optics in on the stripped bolt he was attempting to extract from the microrefinery housing and commed back, ::Busy, Wheeljack.::

::I know, but you should really come take a look at this.::

Primus above, what _had_ gotten on this thing? It looked like something corrosive.... ::Honestly, it's like you don't _want_ fresh energon. Do you have some masochistic streak I should know about?::

::Not that I know of. But you really should come take a look at this, or you'll miss it.::

Perceptor's wrench's grip slipped, and he grumbled to himself in annoyance. :: _What?_ What could possibly be so interesting on this frozen ball of rock?::

::Weeeell, I'm seeing a parhelion, with a very nicely defined parhelic circle, a nearly full halo, two pseudosuns, and upper and lower tangent arcs, but, y'know, if you're not _interested_ , then nevermind, I'm sure the atmosphere'll change in about three nanokliks and it'll be gone.::

" _What?!_ " Perceptor fumbled, the wrench screeching off the refinery housing before he got it back in his palm and shoved it in his subspace. He whirled, pelting for the side of the icy geothermal crater they'd decided was the best site to set up the microrefinery. He scanned the sky, but the lip of the crater obscured much of it, and all he could see was the usual fine frozen precipitation. "Where? I've never _seen_ one before! I've never been on a planet with the right atmosphere and thermal conditions--"

"I know," Wheeljack called from above as Perceptor climbed up the crater's side. "Didn't think that this planet had it in it, really, but the humidity spiked just before sunrise, and now, well...."

Perceptor made a frustrated noise as the brittle, slippery rock crumbled under his foot and impeded his progress. He wheeled an arm, grabbed for a handhold, broke it off, felt the ground under his feet start to shift, and was saved from a very undignified slide all the way down to the bottom of the crater again by a hand reaching down and hauling him up.

"Thank you--oh! _Oh_...." 

It was beautiful: a perfect circle of palest blue intersected by graceful upper and lower tangential arcs against the clear indigo sky. As Wheeljack had said, there were two pseudosuns in line with the planet's own star, and the haloes and tangent arcs were nearly perfect, a lovely visual of mathematical perfection. Perceptor flung open his sensors, taking in the exact atmospheric makeup, humidity, windspeed, and particle density of the fine ice crystals that melted upon contact with the Cybertronians but covered everything else. The wind shifted, and Perceptor watched in fascination, his processor happily calculating vectors and angles and predicting the slight shift in the refractory lightshow above.

"Happy Solstice," Wheeljack said. 

"Hmm...hmm?" Perceptor's glyphs were inquisitive, though his optics stayed on the sky. He was unlikely to see this phenomenon again and didn't want to miss a moment of it!

"Well, local solstice. A bit off for Cybertron's Second Solstice, but close."

Perceptor checked the Cybertronian date and wondered at how time had passed. "Right you are. Happy belated Solstice, my friend." Next to him, Wheeljack's field pulsed in friendly warmth and they watched the sky as the local star crept higher, the clouds rolled in, and the parhelion faded. Perceptor huffed a plume of warmth into the frigid air, carefully bundled the data together for analysis later, and climbed back down into the crater. The microrefinery wouldn't set up itself, after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party All Night Long
> 
>  **Prompt:** Cosmos/Blaster - Getting ready for the next party - from the TF_Rare_Pairing comm on Livejournal
> 
>  
> 
> _This is in the same 'verse as my fic[A Voice in the Dark](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2246319), set late in the timeline when everyone's back on Cybertron and a working Decepticon/Autobot ceasefire is letting everyone relax some._
> 
>  
> 
> _Warnings for implied drunken robot sexytiems._

The first thing I noticed as Blaster's door opened to my ping was the smell of highgrade. _Good_ highgrade. And a lot of it. I was surprised I couldn't see the fumes in the air.

The second thing I noticed was that I suddenly had a communications mech plastered to my front. " _HI, Cosmos_! What's shakin', my mech?" Blaster's hands slid over my plating, one hand almost sliding right off before it grabbed an edge to stop it.

"Wow," I said, amused. "You are really drunk."

"Pssssssht," Blaster said, waving a hand unsteadily. "Haven't had a thing to drink since the Constructicons' party last night."

"Uh huh," I said, moving forward to shuffle us both toward the couch. Blaster was a bit unsteady on his feet and listed to one side before moving with me. "Aaaand _how_ much highgrade did you have at that party?"

Blaster looked up at me seriously. " _Constructicons_ , Cosmos. _Mixmaster_ was in charge of the drinks." He vented a sigh, and yes, he _was_ still venting highgrade fumes. "I don't know what was in that energon and I don't care, but swear to Primus, it tasted like stars and I am _still_ overcharged."

"Stars, huh?" As I maneuvered us down onto the couch (with Blaster tucked against my side lest he slide off) I had a feeling that we weren't going to make it to Bumblebee's party. That was all right by me. I'd been to two holiday parties in the past week and was a bit partied out.

" _Stars_. Tasty stars. Mmmm...." Blaster had evidently gotten distracted by my chestplates and was rubbing his face against them. "Bet you'd be tasty, too."

"Er...eep!" I wriggled a bit as he licked across a join that Blaster _knew_ was sensitive.

"Mmmmmyeah. Def'nitely tasty." I'm sure that Blaster was going for a graceful, predatory swing into my lap. It was not particularly graceful, but it was intent and did end with him straddling my legs, so I supposed it counted. I cupped my hands around his back helpfully. "Mmmm," he purred. "How 'bout you'n me have a little pre-party right here, hmm?"

I chuckled, arching just a little into his slightly unsteady but mmm... _very_ intent hands. "You think we'll still have enough energy to make it to the party afterwards?"

"Dunno," Blaster said, starting to slide bonelessly down toward my panel. His knees hit the floor with a thump, and he grinned up at me. "Let's find out."


	10. G1 - Ratchet, Prowl/Jazz - smexy medical porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz makes a very good distraction.

Of all things while performing a diagnostic and code tweak on Prowl, Ratchet had not expected to feel the sensor-ghost of lips around his spike and fingers flirting with his valve. Quite skillfully, too.

"Jazz."

"Hmmm?"

"I can _feel_ that, you know."

"Mmhmm!"

Ratchet sighed, carefully, so as not to disturb the cables joining him and Prowl via Prowl's medical port. "When I suggested that you come to Prowl's appointment to help keep him calm, this was not what I had in mind."

Jazz lifted his head (slowly, with a sound of protest from Prowl), looking at Ratchet with the most slag-eating grin Ratchet had ever seen as he raised one finger in objection. "No, no, you said 'distract'. I remember very clearly. You _definitely_ said distract. So that's what I'm doing, and I think I'm doing a fabulous job. Just ask Prowl. What do you say, Prowl, am I doing a fabulous job?"

Prowl, whose venting rate had kicked up considerably the moment that Jazz had slid down between his legs and started nibbling on his panels, invented deeply. His voice was as calm as usual when he said, "In that case, Ratchet, I do have to agree with Jazz. He _is_ being extremely distracting."

Ratchet had to admit that his code changes were being accepted with considerably less objection from Prowl's hyperalert systems. Even if it took a bit more concentration on his part. "Oh for...fine."

Jazz grinned and Prowl sighed as the saboteur returned to his distracting by swallowing down Prowl's spike as if gagging reflex subroutines were for other mechs.

"Though you're not allowed to overload," Ratchet added. "It would be extremely disruptive to the very delicate work I'm doing here."

"W...waitwhat?" Prowl said, optics going a bit wide.

_Oh, I am a terrible, terrible mech, and I don't care._ "Don't worry," Ratchet said, patting Prowl's shoulder. "This shouldn't take more than an hour or two."

"Mmmmmmmmm," Jazz purred.

Prowl whimpered, helm thunking back against the berth.


End file.
